


Coffee Drabbles

by Optronix



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Coffee, Drabble Collection, Fluff, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Multi, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-03-31 00:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3957574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Optronix/pseuds/Optronix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Red vs Blue Drabbles centered around coffee because warm beverages help everyone feel better. Mostly cute fluffiness about different characters and their love for coffee or an affectionate nudge with a coffee mug.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Carolina & Caboose

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Red vs. Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carolina reflects on all the terrible things in her life and also the good things. A friend comes along to make things a little better.

Carolina stood at the top of a small mountain among the trees and bushes, hiding away. Finding the Director had been her goal for so long. She’d wanted him to pay for what he’d done to her friends, her family, to everyone in Project Freelancer. And now that she’d done that, a hole in her heart had opened up. A hole that couldn’t be filled with anything she came across. Nothing helped and it hurt. It hurt before, but that was just a dull pain that was covered up by her anger for everyone. Now thought, her heart always hurt.

At first Carolina had thought it was just the pain of realizing York was actually dead; that the love of her life would never return to her. She couldn’t help but wonder if York had felt that way when she had “died” on that snowy mountainside. Then came the news that Wyoming had been killed. She’d never been super close with him, but he was still a member of her team and she cared about him even if she’d never shown it. And then hearing about a creature that was hunting down A.I. units, about North’s death, South’s. It was terrible. Even more news spread about a few soldiers killing C.T. At the time Carolina hadn’t known it wasn’t the real C.T. but it didn’t matter. So what if she’d betrayed them? In the end, she’d been right and Carolina had been wrong. The biggest blow to her heartstrings was the double whammy news that Maine and Wash had died. Even Tex’s death drug her down. All of her friends were dead. How was she supposed to continue on when all of her friends were dead?

When she’d found the Reds and Blues and discovered Wash wasn’t dead after all, it had made her feel better than Carolina had felt in a long time. Of course she hadn’t let Wash know that. But it was a relief to know that someone else understood what she had gone through because they had too. That had made the pain a little more bearable. But the pain in her heart couldn’t be fixed, it wouldn’t go away. 

How could she piece herself back together if all her pieces were lost so long ago? Carolina was nothing more than an angry, defeated Freelancer. No one knew that, but she was. She had had enough. She was done fighting, done searching. All she wanted now was to slip away and enjoy being dead. 

Carolina smiled to herself at that thought. Enjoy being dead. Who ever would have thought that was possible? In her death, she was some sort of commander for an army that really had no clue what they were doing on a planet that really didn’t need saving. She could just leave and let Washington deal with them; but she would miss them. Carolina would never, ever admit to such a thing, but she would miss the Reds and Blues. Being alone was horrible. They may be idiots most of the time, but they did manage to get a smile or two out of Carolina every now and then; not that they ever saw such a thing. 

“Hey Carolina?” A voice from behind drew Carolina from her thoughts. Behind her was Caboose. In his hand was a steaming mug of coffee. He held it out to her. 

“You’ve been out here a long time. I thought maybe you could be cold so I had Donut make you some of the bestest coffee ever. It’s really good. Donut makes the best drinks ever. And cheese. He really knows how to throw a cheese and wine party.” 

This was one of those moments where these Blue morons got a smile out of her. Caboose may be slow, but he was sweet and tried the hardest out of all of them to do the right thing. Carolina reached out and took it from him. With one hand she held the mug and the other she pulled off her helmet, letting it rest in her hand against her leg. Caboose watched her intently and she knew he was waiting for her verdict on the coffee he had given her. She blew on it softly as she brought the white cup to her lips and took a sip.

The coffee instantly warmed her up, inside and out. She gave Caboose one of those rare smiles that hardly ever saw daylight. Not that she could see, but Carolina was sure Caboose was grinning.

“This is really good, Caboose. Thank you.”

“Yeah, I hoped you’d say that. I was kinda afraid that you’d throw it at my face and tell me to go away,” Caboose replied honestly. Carolina let out a small laugh.

Her heart hurt a lot nowadays, but it was moments like this where she could almost feel it repairing itself. The coffee dripping down into it, filling up, acting like glue to the remains of her broken heart. 

They weren’t so bad, the Reds and Blues; idiots yes, but they had the biggest hearts Carolina had ever seen. Perhaps their hearts could help repair her own, but for now, the coffee would be enough.


	2. Grif/Simmons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grif just wants to get coffee that he didn't have to make. Simmons goes along for the ride (and because he wants too).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Red VS Blue.

Simmons really hated Grif.

Most days he could ignore it, but not today. Ever since Sarge had taken half of the base for himself, he’d been stuck with Grif. Every waking moment, Grif was there. It was horrible because sometimes Grif visited him in his dreams...yet some of those dreams weren’t entirely bad. Some were actually kind of good. Grif would still be his fat lazy self, but he would do other things, like hold Simmons’ hand for starters...

“Dude, what the fuck are you looking at?” 

Simmons jumped. Grif was right next to him. When had he gotten there? And how long had he been staring at Simmons?

“Just thinking,” Simmons said quickly, looking away from the orange soldier. 

“You gonna tell me what you were thinking about or are you going for all that aloofness shit?” Simmons couldn’t help but smile.

“Aloofness.”

“Fuck you.” After a minute of silence, both of them broke out in laughter. It had been so long since they’d actually laughed together. Laughing during a war was always hard, but lately it was even harder.

“Hey you wanna get some coffee?” Grif asked nonchalantly. “Donut brewed a pot for his coffee cake or something. I’m sure there’s a enough left for me and possibly you.” Simmons shook his head, a small smile on his lips. God Grif was such an ass, but sometimes he was incredibly cute while doing it. 

“Sure, why not?” Together they walked back to Red Base. 

The kitchen looked worse than Hell itself. Flour, baking soda, and powdered sugar softly coated the walls in a pale dusting. Egg shells (and their whites) light corn syrup, vanilla extract, milk, and other liquids dripped off the counter and stove top, pooling in several spots on the metal floor. The mixer had some dark brown slop stuck to the beater and clinging to the sides of the bowl. It appeared butter had exploded in the microwave and Crisco was smeared over at least seven cabinets and their knobs. The sink was tinged pink along the bottom from what looked like blood. All-in-all, the kitchen had seen better days.

“Holy fucking shit. What did Donut do in here? Create the Gingerbread Man and then brutally murder him moments afterwards?” Grif asked aloud, looking around. Simmons knew it was rhetorical. Just then the oven beeped making both Simmons and Grif jump. Donut came skipping in, opening the oven to check his cake.

“Doesn’t it smell amazing?” Donut asked cheerfully, his face all smiles.

“Dude, what the actual fuck happened in here?” Grif demanded. 

“Oh Caboose came over and helped me bake! Wasn’t that nice of him.”

“Oh God,” Simmons stated. That explained it all.

“The coffee cake isn’t quite done yet. Another ten minutes or so,” Donut informed them.

“Man, I came just for some coffee.” After saying this, Grif walked over to (remarkably) the only clean cabinet and pulled down two mugs. He poured one mug full to the brim and the other about two-thirds full. He then walked over to the non-stainless steel fridge and pulled out a carton of milk and poured it into the lesser coffee before replacing it. He then grabbed the sticky sugar container and put two spoonfuls of sugar into the coffee before stirring it. The surface turned a soft toffee brown. He threw the spoon into the sink. Grif grabbed the two cups of coffee and gave the sweetened one to Simmons. Simmons smiled happily.

“You know my coffee order?” he questioned softly, sipping the deliciously warm coffee. Grif nodded.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you say that milk and all the extras are a waste of valuable time. That they don’t add anything to the coffee,” Simmons replied as they walked out together. Behind them, Donut looked like he was going to explode from all his feelings. Not that either of them noticed.

“Sure you drink your coffee like a pansy, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t remember it.” As Grif looked away to sip his drink, Simmons beamed into his own. His chest was tight and his stomach was doing back flips. 

“Well, thanks.” They went back into their small living room and put on an old, cheesy movie. It was extremely comfortable sitting there for Simmons with his coffee in hand and his best friend by his side. Once he was finished, Simmons set his mug aside on the small end table. As the movie progressed, he slowly slid down the side of the couch until his head was on Grif’s shoulder, eyes closing. After a few long, silent minutes, Simmons felt Grif’s arm wrap around his waist. 

The coffee cake Donut provided not far into the movie ended up tasting pretty good; though neither of them ate very much. Once Simmons remembered the scene in the kitchen sink and told Grif, they were very afraid that Caboose’s blood had been mixed into the batter and covered by an extra cup of coffee. If they ate Caboose’s blood, they could end up with HIV or worse, a terrible case of stupidity.

Simmons smiled up at Grif, not that he could see for his face was in shadow. He was mellow and content. He liked seeing Grif like this, all relaxed. He enjoyed this softer side of Grif.

Maybe he could see him like this more often in the near future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review and tell me what you think!  
> ~Nix


	3. Washington/Tucker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bitterly cold day leads to Tucker's humiliation and a coffee break.

Washington was watching the lieutenants jog around the indoor track. It was bitterly cold today. The rain was coming down in torrents. The wind whipped through the open, windowless training complex. Getting hit by the wind felt like knives embedding into his exposed skin; as he had been stabbed numerous times before, Washington knew what he was talking about. 

Andersmith, Bitters, and Palomo spirited passed him. Trailing a good two hundred feet behind was Jensen, breathing heavily. Washington was half afraid that she was going to keel right over at any given moment. Normally they did warm ups without their armor on to allow for a wider range of motion. But today it was too damn cold; no one cared pull their armor off. A thin layer of frost had accumulated on everyone’s armor. Washington couldn’t help but shiver. 

“Time!” Washington called. Palomo and Jensen both fell over when Washington called for the end of the run. Jensen because she was exhausted, Palomo because he was melodramatic. Washington walked over to Palomo, rubbing his hands together as he wanted to warm them a little. “If you fall over after a run out in the field, you’re going to get killed.” Palomo sat up. Washington knew he was smirking behind his helmet.

“Just trying to make Jensen feel like she’s not alone, sir.” Jensen sat up too, her breathing having evened out. 

“That’s so sweet of you,” Jensen told him, her mouth full of excess saliva. Washington shook his head. 

“That’s not the point…” He groaned, giving up. The group trembled together as the rain was starting to get blown in. The facility was slowly becoming wet and slick. It wouldn’t be safe to train at the moment…unless he tested the conditions first. “You four, take a twenty-minute break. Send in Captain Tucker, will you?” Palomo snickered, nodding as the four filed out. A minute later, Tucker wandered in. It was clear by his stance he was annoyed. His aqua armor seemed to glow in the dim light.

“Fuck no. Just because you’re back doesn’t mean I’m gonna be your guinea pig all over again.” Tucker answered Washington’s unasked question.

“How unfortunate for you that I still outrank you,” Washington replied. 

“Technically you don’t even have a rank. I’m a Captain now. You’re just an asshole that happens to be really good at killing people.” Washington couldn’t help but smile. 

“Have you met Carolina? I’ve got nothing on her.” Tucker chuckled. 

“Oh she’s downright terrifying. I have no idea how Church puts up with her. I would have killed myself if I was stuck inside her mind.” Tucker shook his head. “And let's not even get started on Texas. The things I wish I could have done to her…”

“You do remember she kicked your ass more times than you can count,” Washington reminded him. “And that’s mostly because you can’t count very high.” Washington knew Tucker was glaring at him even though he couldn’t see through his visor. 

“I hope you know that you’re a dick.”

“You’ve told me at least fifty-four times, but who’s counting?” Washington was really grinning now, despite the freezing wind and rain blowing into the complex. “Start running, Captain Tucker.” After spewing a few more profanities, Tucker started running. Washington watched him stumble around the track. Washington was impressed that Tucker remained on his feet the entire time. They went through shooting practice and Tucker’s most hated activity: leg exercises. Tucker whined and complained as loud as possible until it was over. The lieutenants had filed back in at this point. 

Washington then made Tucker do a basic dodge maneuver. Tucker’s leg slid out from beneath him as he rolled. His hand caught the floor as he tumbled over himself. His head crashed into the wall as the wind blew him into it. His leg came flying over his core, heels hitting the polished floor with a crack. He lay there, dazed for a moment. Once Tucker got his bearings, he pushed himself to his feet.

“Fuck this!” He stormed for the exit as the lieutenants giggled and snickered at his failure. 

“And just where do you think you’re going? You weren’t dismissed, Tucker.” 

“I’m getting coffee,” he snapped as he kicked open the door, storming out. Washington dismissed the lieutenants and hurried after Tucker.

Agent Washington watched the aqua heel whip around a corner and out of sight. Tucker was clearly heading towards the lounge. A small room where soldiers could take a load off and chat with each other or play cards. The room also housed: a fridge, a sink, a microwave with an interesting aroma coming from it when opened, a small smattering of misused and mismatched china, cutlery in varying states of ware, and an ancient coffee pot. It was really the only place in the entire base where someone could get coffee without it being mealtime. In a few of the cupboards were tattered boxes of crackers, opened bags of chips, a box of kettle corn that no one but Palomo had touched, and a random smattering of other snacks. Anything sweet had already been snatched by Grif and hidden in his own personal stash. Tucker was pulling a heavily chipped mug from the cupboard when Washington entered the room. Off in the corner, a few soldiers were talking.

Tucker grabbed the pot of coffee. He was secretly thankful it was half full and he didn’t have to wait for a fresh pot. Washington watched him pour the black liquid into the mug. Steamed rolled off it in thin ripples. Tucker glanced at Washington before sighing. He reached for another mug and poured him a cup as well. It wasn’t as full as Tucker’s. Washington opened the fridge. Bottles rattled as he did so. He scanned the shelves for creamer. The one he picked was mostly empty, only a few teaspoonfuls left. Tucker pulled off his helmet and grabbed his mug. Washington poured the remaining creamer into his cup. He tossed the empty bottle across the room and into the little trash bin. Tucker let a small smile grace his face.

“Not a bad throw,” he stated before blowing at his coffee. Washington followed suit, tugging off his helmet and joining Tucker with his cup. He’d picked up a knife from the drawer of silverware to stir his coffee. All of the spoons were oddly absent.

“You know you’re not a bad soldier. A hell of a lot better than when I found you in that crappy canyon.” Tucker rolled his eyes, taking a large sip from his mug. He couldn’t help but choke a little as the liquid burned his tongue as throat. He wanted to feel it. Tucker was cold from the impromptu training session. His stomach warmed as the coffee hit and he relaxed. Washington was idly stirring his, staring down into the table.

“You’re just saying that because you put too much time into me back at Valhalla,” Tucker replied, not believing him. Washington looked up at him with a gentle smile.

“Only because you showed a lot more potential than Caboose.” Both laughed at that.

“True. Caboose is well… Caboose.” They said the last word in unison. This much was true. Caboose meant well, but he was certainly lost in his own world. Washington removed the knife from his cup and took a small sip, shrugging. 

“Not bad for being blueberry flavored.” Tucker gagged at Washington’s words. 

“Who the hell buys blueberry creamer? Well, adding cream and sugar to coffee is a cop out in general, but if you need to flavor the coffee too you might as well buy goddamn tea and get on with it,” Tucker ranted. Once he was through, he took another large swallow. Washington shook his head with a gentle smile. He slowly drank his coffee. Silent filled the gap between them for several long minutes. Tucker’s gaze shifted every ten seconds or so. From the sink, to the floor, to the group in the back, and then back to his cup. 

“So Wash, what was it like?” he asked unusually quiet. Washington set his cup down on the table. 

“What was what like?” he questioned back, not understanding what Tucker was hinting at. Tucker too set down his mug. He stared at it for a minute before looking up. They locked eyes.

“Project Freelancer. What was it like? Did you know what the Director was doing the whole time? Was everyone as big of a bitch as Texas and Carolina?” His last question made Washington smile.

“Actually, for the most part, everyone was pretty nice. North, York, and I were really close. York was a dork and North kinda watched over everyone. Him and Florida both did. Maine was quiet, but nice enough. Hell of a card player, let me tell you; him and North could kick all of our asses at poker. South was angry a lot of the time, but not mean, per se. She just really hated being younger than North.” At Tucker’s confused look, Washington explained. “They were twins. Anyway, Wyoming was a little pompous, but not a bad guy. CT was as close to what I could call a best friend until things started getting messy with the Director. And, well, you’ve met Carolina and Texas,” Washington finished rather lamely. Tucker swirled the cooling dregs of coffee in the last inch of his mug.

“The Director was a dick, to say the least. None of us knew what he was doing. I have a feeling that CT was onto him, but honestly, I don’t know. If you want the super specifics, ask Church. If he doesn’t know, they no one does.

“Overall, it wasn’t horrible. We’re soldiers. Him and the Counselor made us better soldiers. They did a good job with us, they just went too far. Kept too many tabs on us, you know. They turned us against each other. We fell apart. Carolina was thought to be dead. Maine went berserk thanks to Sigma; he just started killing everyone off to get their AIs and armor enhancements, but you know that much.” Tucker nodded, downing the last of his now cold coffee. Washington took a swig of his own cooling cup. “We stopped trusting each other, let the Director came between us. Plus, the whole ‘Epsilon’ thing didn’t help my personal issues either.” Tucker smiled.

“You couldn’t handle Church? I know he’s an asshole, but still.” Washington rolled his eyes. 

“He wasn’t Church then. Just pain,” Washington said simply. Washington got up and filled his half empty cup with more coffee and then brought the pot over and filled Tucker’s back up. 

“But he’s better now. Why let Carolina keep him?” Washington raised an eyebrow at him.

“You can’t possibly tell me you enjoyed having that idiot in your head.” Tucker actually laughed; a true, real laugh left his throat.

“Touché, Agent Washington.” Together they sipped their refreshed cups. The group in the back got up, talking and laughing loudly at a joke one of them had cracked. The door opened in one swift movement before slamming hard. Silence gripped the two men in the room. Washington quickly drank more of his coffee, the blueberry flavor diluted out by the addition of more coffee. Tucker ideally swirled his, staring into his cup. He looked up into Washington’s eyes again. Quickly his eyes swept Tucker’s face. Was he closer than before? 

Before any other words could be said, Simmons burst into the room. The door hit the wall with a crack. Both of them jumped.

“Wash! Wash! We’ve got an emergency!” Washington set down his cup of coffee, getting to his feet. He grabbed his helmet. 

“Which is?”

“Felix is a dick!” Tucker coughed in order to get his chuckle out. He, like Washington, abandoned his coffee and grabbed his helmet. In unison they put them on. 

“That’s not news, Simmons,” Tucker chided. Simmons threw his hands up into the air.

“Just come, dammit!” Simmons rushed back out. Washington hurried after him. Tucker paused just for a moment. When Simmons had scared the shit out of them just moments before, Washington had dropped Tucker’s hand. They had been hidden under the table. Tucker half wished Simmons hadn’t come in. Part of him thought Washington was considering kissing him. Now, he may never know.

Tucker quickly followed after them out to the command room. No doubt Carolina and Kimball were waiting for them.


	4. North, York, & Washington

“She spends way too much time down there.”

“To be fair, what else is there to do on this ship?” North couldn’t help but laugh at York’s words. 

“I’m sure you and Carolina have found other things to do on this ship besides train,” North retorted. York raised his hands in surrender, a laugh in his words.

“Touché, my friend. We’ve defiantly managed to stay entertained to say the least.” North rolled his eyes as he watched Carolina going through the course. He and York were watching from the skybox. It was terribly late. Neither of them dared check their watches for they really didn’t want to know. It wasn’t yet late enough for York to admit defeat. He was going to go down swinging before succumbing to exhaustion. North yawned as he turned back to face York. Predictably, York let out an audible sound of disgust. 

“You’re not seriously tired, North,” York demanded. North just shook his head.

“You’re seriously not tired, York?” North replied with a yawn interrupting the last half of his sentence. York sprung to his feet. 

“York is never tired! He is always ready for late night endeavors and adventures!” North tried hard not to laugh. York was always a dork when he was tired. It was even more apparent whenever he was drunk. North was thankful he was not as his drunken “adventures” usually ended in him passing out on Maine’s or Wash’s floor at five in the morning. North didn’t to humor his friend.

“And what kind of adventure are you looking for tonight?” The smile on York’s face was borderline delirious.

“The perfect cup of coffee!” North actually laughed this time as York hurried out of the room. North took one last look down at Carolina before following after him. She was a big girl could easily look after herself. 

“C’mon North!”

“Wait up, I’m comin’, I’m comin’.” North hurried after York. Their foot falls were naturally silent as they ran. It was a force of habit. York was grinning from ear-to-ear as he looked back over his shoulder at his compadre. North couldn’t stop the smile from spreading over his lips. Soon they were in the small kitchen. York was busying himself with the coffee pot, that stupid grin plastered across his face. North slid into the plush chair not too far from him. York either had no idea how to make coffee or he was just extremely tried; likely, it was both. North did not take pity as York tried to force the coffee filter into the machine. It took him a few minutes, but York eventually managed to put the filter in, add coffee grinds and water, turn it on, and find mugs. By the time York had accomplished all that, Washington had wandered in from patrol.

“Whoa! Wash! When did you get in here?” York’s grip slipped on the mug in his hand as he jumped a little. Thankfully, Wash was wide awake and snatched the mug before is shattered. North smiled. 

“Your reflexes are getting better,” He commented off-handedly. The tips of Wash’s ears turned a light pink. 

“Been trying,” he mumbled as he took the seat across from North. “So what’s going on? It’s four in the morning. Why the hell are you two up?” North groaned. 

“It’s seriously four in the morning?” Wash nodded as York poured coffee into a mug and started adding whatever he found in the kitchen: spices, creamers, chocolate drizzle, whipped cream, and more. It was an interesting process. Neither Wash nor North could look away from the show before them. York finally turned around, a sleepy, satisfied smile on his lips as he held this cup of coffee between his hands. They watched him set it before them. He grabbed three spoons and passed one to each of them. 

“This is seriously going to be the greatest thing you’ve ever drank in your entire life,” York declared. The looks Wash and North exchanged, York didn’t catch. He also missed the eye roll from Wash and North’s soft smile as they took their spoons. They both took a turn to dip their spoon into the frothy, steaming liquid. York looked so hopeful – mostly because he was on the verge of falling asleep. North was too. Both he and Wash both knew he was trying to stay up for when Carolina came through. Carolina usually let her bad day carry into the night. 

“Holy shit,” Wash breathed under his breath, eyes bright with surprised. “This actually tastes amazing for insomnia coffee.” York coughed and crossed his arms.

“It’s the best coffee in the world or something,” North muttered to Wash. Washington chuckled, looking up at the expectant York. 

“It’s amazing.” North swallowed his spoonful. Wow. It actually was good.

“North…?” York asked tentatively.

“It’s amazing. I love it.” York tried his own creation. He whooped with happiness.

“It’s the cinnamon and the cayenne,” he stated modestly. Wash blinked at him, uncertain.

“Do I even want to know what else is in here…?” York shook his head with a huge grin. 

The sound of someone putting armor on a table drew their attention. Carolina had finished her self-punishment workout that she’d been doing since eleven o’clock the previous night. Her hair had fallen into her eyes and out of her ponytail. York’s dorky smile lit right up.

“And the princess arrives!” Carolina scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“Pfft, please. I’m the goddamn queen.” North and Wash choked back their laughter. They were all ready to pass out it was so late… early. Carolina observed the cup on the table.

“Insomnia coffee?” she guessed. York nodded. 

“I made it for you.” Her eyebrows disappeared into her bangs as she skeptically took in the mug, then Wash and North. She mouthed is it any good? North smiled and winked. Carolina didn’t seem to be in the mood to hurt York’s feelings which North appreciated. She picked up the mug and took a sip. Whipped cream lined her upper lip. York smiled softly, genuinely. 

“You got a little something…” He moved closer to her. Both Wash and North knew that was their que to go. They tossed their spoons into the sink. They took their leave as they heard Carolina and York connect behind them.

“When was the last time you slept?” Wash asked as they walked back to their quarters.

“Twenty-nine and counting. You?”

“Nasty. I’m only on nineteen. York?” 

“I’m guessing mid-thirties. He’s a shitty kisser when he’s tired though. They won’t last long.” Washington laughed quietly.

“True.” Their soft steps were the only sound as North took Wash’s hand in his, giving it a soft squeeze. 

“He’s always had a soft spot for her,” North muttered in his ear. Washington smiled, nodding. He didn’t say anything else. They stopped outside Wash’s door. North leaned in and kissed him gently. 

“Goodnight David~” he whispered as he pulled away.

The coffee lingered on Wash’s lips as he got ready for bed.


	5. Washington/Tucker (Recovery One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They won the war for Charon. Every victory comes with a price... and coffee.

Never again, he had told himself. He had promised himself that he would never again take on an AI unit. He couldn’t say he hated them, but he wouldn’t go as far as saying he liked them either. But in that moment, there was only one option: take Epsilon. If he didn’t, Tucker wouldn’t make it. Tucker’s mind didn’t have the resiliency to comprehend exactly what was happening. Epsilon was breaking down, shredding Tucker’s thoughts and memory as he went. Epsilon couldn’t possibly have known that this would happen or he wouldn’t have done it. Or maybe he would have. He may not be the same Church the Reds and Blues had known, but Epsilon was still a dick most days much like Church had been. Now was the moment. Carolina looked over at him, worried that could only be seen in her eyes.

You sure you want to do this? He didn’t quite register that she was talking to him as he laid back on the medical berth. Carolina gave his hand a quick squeeze as an oxygen mask was put over with mouth and nose. I’ll be here when you wake up. With a blind, un-sensing nod, Agent Washington closed his eyes, deeply inhaling the sedative as the medics around him prepped for surgery.

~~

His own groaned filled his ears as he sat up. Tucker leaned over the bed and purged the contents of his mostly-empty stomach into a trash can beside his bed. His head was pounding, aching all over. Spots were blurring his eyes. Dr. Grey hurried over. She pressed him back into the bed, shining a small light in his eyes. Tucker flinched hard. He saw them, the AIs, as he blinked. He could hear them pleading with Epsilon to stay. Tucker choked back his sob as the fuzziness around his memories ebbed away. 

Dr. Grey shoved several different pills and liquids into Tuckers hands over the course of several hours. She cheerily glowered at him until he took them. The curtains surrounding his bed parted a little to reveal Carolina.

“How are you doing?” Tucker’s hands were shaking a little and he wasn’t able to look at her. His dreads were covering his expression. 

“I don’t know…” His voice was a mere whisper. He’d never felt like this before – like a child who needed comfort and a simple explanation. “I’m trying to sort through it… Them…” Carolina’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Them?”

“The other AIs… they were there with Church – I mean Epsilon – and they helped… Theta was pleading… Delta said it was the only-only way…” His throat tightened to the point where he couldn’t breathe for a few seconds. Silently, Tucker panicked until Carolina came over and put her hand on his shoulder. He relaxed just a little. It was then he realized he wasn’t hearing them. It was echoes, their memories in his. His heart tightened faster than his throat. They couldn’t be…

“What happened, Tucker?” Carolina looked down at him, truly concerned.

“They’re gone.” It broke his heart to say this. They couldn’t be… after everything they had been through, those little guys couldn’t have died. “Ch-Church is a fucking asshole.” Carolina offered him a weak smile.

“And you’re surprised about this?” 

“They shouldn’t be gone.”

“What if I told you they weren’t?” Tucker’s head snapped up. His slightly glowing green eyes met her own emerald ones. He shook his head almost frantically. 

“No! I would be able to hear them, talk to them. They’re not here Carolina. They’re gone!” He was angry. Why was she even suggesting otherwise? He would know if they were still in his head, rifting through his thoughts and emotions like books, delving into memories. 

“You can’t hear them because they’re not with you anymore,” she told him gently. “You weren’t going to make it. Grey said your brain and heart were shutting down due to the stress of Epsilon fracturing in your head. We had to transfer them to another mind, a more stable one.” Tucker processed this for several minutes, completely silent as his brain sluggishly comprehended what she was saying. 

“…Who took them…?” Carolina looked away, not answering.

“Carolina, who took them?!” He was shouting now, yelling at her. She still didn’t answer.

“Answer me! Tell me who took them!” She took a deep breath, clenching, and unclenching her fists.

“I can’t tell you yet. You’ll freak out and Grey said you can’t handle any more stress.” Tucker was on his feet now, right in Carolina’s face.

“So help me God Carolina, if you don’t tell me who has them, I am going to punch you in the fucking face!” Carolina sighed. 

“Alright, alright. It was Wash.”

Tucker’s entire body tensed up. A cold dread flooded his veins as the harsh realization hit him like a Warthog. Wash, his Wash, had taken the fragmenting AI; the same AI that had caused his insanity, his distrust of AIs. Washington had done it for him. He had saved him. But was Washington okay? Where was he? Tucker had to see him immediately. He was already on his feet as he looked at Carolina again.

“Where is he?” 

“The private medical room at the end of the hall.” Tucker was already running down the hall before Carolina had even finished her sentence. His feet slid the last fifteen feet as he only had socks on. He practically crashed into the door before forcing it open. He froze in the doorway. The light from the halogen lamps behind him cast his shadow across the floor, long and tall. All the lights were off. Tucker was backlit in the doorway. In the far corner behind the medical berth, he could see a soft red and purple glow. It had been there for only a moment before vanishing. Tucker closed the door quietly.

“Wash…? It’s me, Tucker. Washington…?” Tucker blindly felt about for the bed. When he finally felt it, he inched around until his fingertips brushed the wall. He slid his feet silently on the floor until he touched something that recoiled instantly. He had found Wash. Tucker crouched down, hand gliding down the wall to keep his bearings as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. His hand reached out for Wash once he was seated near him (at least he hoped he was near him). A soft whimper came from his right as Tucker’s hand stretched farther away from his body. He felt warm cotton brush his fingertips. Before Wash could scuttle away, Tucker put his hand on his shoulder, anchoring him. 

“Washington, it’s me, Tucker. It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay. I promise.” Another soft whimper and finally Tucker’s eyes adjusted to the dark. He could see Wash’s outline tucked as far as he could go into the corner. He could see his soft blue eyes looking wide with fright.

“Shh, shh, it’s gonna be okay, Wash.” Tucker reached out his other hand to take one of Wash’s own. Washington flinched. In that moment, Tucker’s heart broke. Wash had done this for him so he would live and now Wash seemed to be insane again. Carolina had told him in limited detail about what Wash had gone through, what he’d told them. Tucker felt that it had to be different this time. 

Tucker sat there with him for some time, gently massaging small circles into his shoulder. Tucker talked in soft tones, his hand slowly moving down Wash’s arm until it found his hand. Their fingers entwined automatically, which brought a smile to Tucker’s lips. At least somethings didn’t change. Carolina checked in on them, bringing a cup of soup for each of them. She switched on a small desk lamp before she left them. Wash’s face was gaunt and a little pale, but not the wretched look Tucker had been imagining for the last few hours. 

“I love you, Wash,” Tucker murmured quietly, not knowing if he heard him or not. Tucker didn’t notice the little purple and red figure next to Wash’s left knee.

“He loves you too; he just doesn’t want to talk right now.” It took all his willpower not to jump or cry out. Tucker stared at the little AI fragment.

“Theta…what’s going on?”

“He’s in shock, that’s all. He’s going to be okay. Delta is helping him through it. I am too, but I thought you might need a friend for a second,” Theta explained. Tucker looked at Wash’s untouched bowl of soup. 

“When do you think he’ll come out of it?”

“Soon. He needs you, so don’t go anywhere…” Theta’s voice faded out as did his glowing figure. Tucker did as he was told and stayed by Wash, talking to him to try to draw his attention away from his mind. Tucker was worried Wash would never come out of it until Washington’s upper body slid across the wall until his head landed against tucker’s shoulder. He settled in, their hands still connected. Tucker relaxed considerably. 

“It…it’s a nightmare in here…”

Washington’s voice was hoarse, cracked. Tucker pulled him into his lap, holding him protectively.

“I know. I’m so sorry, Wash.”

“This…this isn’t so bad… Not as bad as last time…” Tucker pressed his lips against Wash’s forehead. 

“That’s good, and as an added bonus, you’ve got me to keep you safe as you recover.” Wash tried to rolled his eyes, but winced with the effort. The strain made his head throb. 

“I still see it, like before, not also not… I don’t know how to explain…” 

“You don’t have too,” Tucker reminded him gently. “Can I ask a favor though?” Wash looked at him, confused and worried.

“Can we move onto the bed? My ass is hurting.” Wash cracked a small smile.

“Everything’s always about you, isn’t it?” 

“Only like, ninety percent of the time.”

“You also forgot to say something.” It was Tucker’s turn to look confused.

“What do you mean?”

“After ‘my ass is hurting’ you should have finished with bow chicka bow wow.” Tucker laughed, hugging him tightly, kissing his temple. 

“Oh yeah ‘that was the worst blank ever, of all time,’ you wanna judge?” It was Wash’s turn to smile, nuzzling him gently. 

“Don’t make a me assign you another leg day.” 

“I literally just had a fucking prick removed from my head and you’re threatening me with leg day?!” Wash laughed softly, the color slowly returning to his face. 

“Which means you should be good to go,” Wash said quietly, his voice getting stronger. Wash slowly got up and Tucker followed, moving to the medical bed that was there. Tucker laid down and Wash joined him, snuggling up to his chest. They laid there in silence for a long time. Wash’s ear was pressed against Tucker’s chest. Listening to Tucker’s breathing and heart beating helped him relax and Wash fell into a deep dreamless sleep. Tucker wrapped his arms protectively around Wash, a soft smile on his face until he too fell asleep. Because there were no windows inside the private medical room, they weren’t sure how long there were asleep or what time it was when they woke up. Tucker groaned softly, nuzzling him awake. Washington groaned back, rubbing his eyes. 

“Can I get you anything?” Tucker asked sleepily. 

“Mmm… coffee? Can we get some coffee?” Tucker smiled gently, kissing the top of his head. 

“Sure thing, Wash. I can get you some coffee. You gotta let me up first.” Washington clearly didn’t want to get off Tucker, with a moan and a groan, he slowly slid off him into a sitting position at the end of the medical bed. Tucker sat up too, stretching and yawning. His dreads were tousled and all over, a few hanging in his face. Wash smiled gently, slowly brushing his dreads away from his face. Wash cupped Tucker’s cheek, pulling himself closer, planting a tender, chaste kiss to his lips. 

“Thank you.” Those two words meant more than just thanks for getting coffee. They were a thank you for not giving up on him, for staying with him for hours and hours, for just sitting there and waiting and talking, for always having his back, for literally everything. It was a very loaded thank you and Tucker knew it. His response was just as loaded.

“You’re welcome.” 

Tucker got up and left, heading towards the lounge. Sitting there was the Reds, all four of them. Sarge gabbing away about how he led the army that destroyed all of their enemies while Simmons hung on to every single word, nodding and adding ‘yes sirs’ and ‘we-couldn’t-have-done-it-without-yous’ every time Sarge took a deep drink of his overly large mug. Donut was gapping away about how the base needed a makeover and was trying to show Grif the plans he had drawn up. Grif was adding more whiskey than coffee each time he refilled his mug; when Simmons wasn’t looking, he’d add some to his mug too along with a packet of Splenda. Tucker chuckled, a small smile on his face as he looked over at those red idiots. As much as he’d hated them way back when, inside, he was glad those morons had been on their for the last few years. As annoying as they were, as obnoxious and lazy some of them could be, they weren’t the shit soldiers they’d once been. Hell, he wasn’t the shit soldier he’d once been. That was mostly thanks to Wash and due to the fact that he was a cocky motherfucker. 

Tucker scavenged two mugs that were only slightly less chipped that the others in the cabinet. He filled his cup up almost to the brim and filled Wash’s about two-thirds the way full. He put the pot back on. Tucker wandered over to the fridge, bottles clinking together as the door swung open. Tucker bent down, looking for some coffee creamer, happy to find hazelnut creamer that wasn’t even open yet. He smiled to himself as he twisted off the red plastic top and ripped the thin film off the top and spun the cap back on. He flipped the lid off and poured the creamy contents into the dark liquid. The coffee paled and turned to a light brown as Tucker fished in the drawer for a spoon. He stirred the contents up and looked around for the sugar. He had to steal it away from Donut who liked to add at least a quart of sugar to his coffee. He put a teaspoon of sugar into Wash’s coffee and stirred it more. He walked with the two mugs in his hands back to Wash’s medical room, silently laughing as Grif just started drinking the whiskey straight out of the bottle, not even trying to hide it any more. 

“Mmm… coffee.” The soft smile on Washington’s face made Tucker’s whole day. His heart soared as he kicked the door shut and offered Wash his mug.

“It’s hazelnut in the fridge this week.” Washington beamed.

“Thank God, ‘cause I was getting real sick of that blueberry shit.” Tucker laughed, nuzzling Wash, careful not to spill either of their drinks. Tucker looked at Wash very carefully, an emotion he couldn’t quite name welling up in his throat and in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t dread or happiness or confusion… What was it? Suddenly, like word vomit spilling out, Tucker said very quickly,

“I love you, David Washington.” Wash’s eyes brighten, a smile coming to his face. 

“I thought you didn’t do ‘love’ and ‘all that mushy, romantic shit’?” Wash said with a smile. Tucker rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his coffee.

“You know what asshole, I take it back. I don’t love you.”

“You can’t take back an ‘I love you’ you prick.”

“Sure you can as I just fucking did.”

“Nope! You can’t, you slut,” Wash shot back, grinning away. 

“What?! I’m the slut? You’re the tramp of this relationship!” Washington’s eyes grew even brighter with delight.

“I thought we weren’t in a relationship~” Tucker swore, setting his coffee down on the counter. 

“Part of me wants to kick your ass and the other part of me wants to – ” but he didn’t finish his sentence. 

“To what~?” Tucker was thankful his skin was so dark so Wash couldn’t see him blush.

“Nothing.” 

“Well guess what you goddamn dick?”

“What?”

“I love you too, Lavernius Tucker.” Tucker looked away to grab his coffee so Wash couldn’t see the smile spreading across his face.


	6. Simmons/Grif

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during "Relocated."

“You’re mad, aren’t you?”

Silence.

“If you’re mad, just say so. Don’t just ignore me like this.”

More silence.

“Oh c’mon Grif, I said I was sorry!”

Grift point-blank refused to even look at Simmons. Simmons had been trying for the last half an hour to get him to say something, anything. It wasn’t going well. After the whole ‘getting-blown-off-the-building’ thing, Simmons really couldn’t blame Grif. At the same time, it wasn’t really Simmons’ fault…

Simmons sighed heavily, getting up and leaving him to sit on the couch. Simmons made his way into the kitchenette. It was small, mostly empty. When they’d gotten to Valhalla, there really wasn’t anything there. Thank fucking God that there was ground coffee and now that they had power, Simmons could make coffee. He did just that. He added water to the back and coffee grounds into the filter. He flipped the switch and let the pot do its thing. 

As the coffee pot dripped away, Simmons rummaged around for mugs. He found none. Instead he came across a chipped, ceramic bowl a little bigger than the normal coffee mug and a glass pint cup with a faded rose on it. He shook his head. It would have to do. He brought his findings back over to the coffee pot. It was the slowest coffee maker Simmons had ever come across. Hardly a half inch was in the bottom of the slightly cracked container. Groaning to himself, Simmons pulled up a chair and stared at the machine. Unfortunately, giving the pot his undivided attention did not make it brew coffee faster. In fact, he could have sworn the damn thing was dripping even less than before.

It had been nearly an hour when Grif slowly got up from his angry fit on the couch to go look for Simmons. He smelled coffee lingering in the air and followed that scent. It lead him to the small, poorly stocked kitchenette. He was surprised to find Simmons there, snoozing in a shabby chair. The coffee pot light was blinking to indicate that it was done brewing. Grif saw the bowl and cup next to it and smirked. So this was what Simmons was doing to try and get back in his good graces? 

“Hey asshat, wake up. Coffee’s done.” With a good elbow nudge from Grif, Simmons jumped up, eyes wide. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Grif chuckled.

“You really think coffee was going to make throwing grenades at me better?” Simmons shrugged, looking down at his feet.

“I was hoping you’d be less pissy, anyway…” he mumbled. Grif rolled his eyes, pulling the coffee pot off of its plinth and poured the steaming liquid into the two containers. Grif rummaged around in the cupboards and produced a few ancient packets of sugar and added them to the cup with the rose. He plucked a spoon from a drawer and stirred it up before sliding it down towards Simmons.

“I thought I was supposed to be cheering you up?” Grif shrugged.

“So maybe I overreacted,” he said with a shrug. “So what? I’ve nearly died – correction, should have died – more times that I can count and not because I can’t count very high, but because Sarge is out to murder me with as much a spectacle as he can get.” Simmons couldn’t argue with that. He idly stirred his coffee, glancing over at Grif.

“He doesn’t really want you dead, you know,” he murmured quietly. Neither of them said anything for a minute; they just stared into the abyss that was their coffee. 

“Yeah, I know. He’s just an asshole,” Grif muttered back. 

They both stood there in the little kitchenette staring into their coffee, reflecting on everything they’d been through as Reds and everything they’d done with the Blues.

Getting blown off the roof seemed like a piece of fucking cake after all the other shit and in that moment, Grif was glad that he had Simmons watching his back. He wouldn’t have wanted anyone else anyway. Only this maroon idiot next to him was as stupid as he was and that’s why they made such a great team. Both either so brave or so stupid that it all just seemed to work out in the end. 

Wherever the future takes them, Grif was glad to have Simmons by his side and this shitty cup of coffee in his hand.


	7. Blood Gulch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grif is bored. Simmons tries to entertain him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set Season 1/2

“There is literally nothing to do in this fucking canyon.”

“We could try building a fire.”

“Why the fuck would we want to do that?”

“Keeps the boredom away, doesn’t it?”

“Fuck no.

“What about-”

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me-”

“Did it on purpose, Simmons.”

“You’re an asshole, Grif.”

Simmons and Grif stood on top of Red Base, guns at their sides, but honestly, there really was no point. The Blues were currently so disorganized that they could have been armed with potatoes and have nothing to worry about.

“I can’t believe your suggestion for curing boredom is building a fucking fire,” Grif shot at Simmons.

“It’s a perfectly good way to spend an afternoon. It’s not like you’ve ever built a fire. You’re lucky you can still lift an Oreo to your mouth.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Grif stated. “I hold the record for being able to eat the most Oreos in one go.” Clearly Grif wanted Simmons to ask him how many Oreos that was; with nothing better to do, he humored him.

“And how many was that, fatass?”

“In five minutes I was able to eat ninety-two Oreos – like a boss.” Simmons quick did the math in his head.

“Jesus Christ! That’s two and a half boxes of Oreos!” Grif was smiling behind his helm.

“You bet your ass it is. Those were the greatest five minutes of my life.”

Simmons looked across the canyon to see several blue soldiers loitering around.

“Do you think we should go see what they’re up to?” Grif scoffed.

“That would require giving a shit and wanting to walk across this canyon. Since I don’t want to wander over there for no reason, why would I give a shit?”

“It would break up the day,” Simmons reminded him. Grif was about to respond when the sound of a gunshot shattered the quiet, cloudy day. A loud, furious voice rang throughout the canyon;

“SON OF A BITCH, CABOOSE.” Grif chuckled.

“Fuck it. I wanna see this.” The pair made their way down only to find Sarge already charging out of their base, shotgun locked-and-loaded. 

“If those Blue dirtbags think they can sneak up on us, guess again! ‘Cause you’ll have to get up earlier to pin the tail on this lion.” 

“Sarge, we weren’t guessing. We weren’t going to guess. No one would ever want to guess,” Grif drawled as he and Simmons walked passed. 

“I would have guessed, sir!” Simmons spoke up, pausing to look at their leader. 

“No one likes a suck-up, Simmons.” Simmons’ shoulder sank similarly to the Titanic.   
“Yes sir.” Grif snorted, repeating mockingly.

“Yeah Simmons, no one likes a suck-up.” Simmons gave him Grif a dirty look that the orange soldier couldn’t see due to their helmets. 

“You’re a jerk,” Simmons told him childishly. Grif only shrugged. 

“Wait for me you guys! After all, three’s a crowd.” Grif and Simmons visibly cringed. 

“Hey Donut…” Grif groaned. Sarge quickly caught up with them. The four Reds walked towards the smattering of Blue soldiers. 

“Hi guys! I can’t believe you were just going to leave me at base. I mean, I know I was baking and all, but if you’d been willing to wait a whole forty seconds, I could have pulled my latest batch of cookies from the oven!” Grif didn’t say anything as he wasn’t listening to Donut. Simmons on the other hand, turned to Donut, eyes wide beneath his helmet.

“Wait, you left a tray of cookies in the oven?! Are you trying to burn the base down?” Donut waved his hand dismissively.

“Of course not. I put a second tray in so the first tray won’t burn. You know, ‘cause the heat will go to the other tray and bake that one first.” Simmons looked back at Red base, sighing.

“Donut, I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works…”  
“Sure, it is! Trust me, I know.” Simmons just shook his head, regretting asking in the first place.

The members of Red team paused at the top of a small hill. They saw Church running towards them. Tucker soon joined him. Out of a clearing, Texas was running faster than either of them. It occurred to Simmons first that if most of the members of Blue team were running like their lives depended on it, it was only logical that the maroon soldier turned and run. Sarge followed suit. Grif shoved Donut out of his way as Texas passed him. Donut tried to ask Church and Tucker what the Blues were up to on such a fine day, but they didn’t stick around to answer. Tucker passed Grif as Texas passed Sarge and Simmons. She dived behind a large rock pile. It must have broken away from the side of the cliff some time ago. Church was swearing as he ran side-by-side with Sarge. They passed Simmons just before diving behind the pile. Tucker and Simmons joined them, Grif gasping for air as he brought up the rear. Donut was nowhere to be seen.

“What did you blue jackasses do this time?” Grif rasped. He was flat on his back, chest rising and falling in rapid movements as he sucked in air like a beached whale. The wind seemed to still around them as Texas smacked Tucker upside the head.

“Back off, Tex! It wasn’t my fault!”

“You were stupid enough to leave the keys in it,” she snapped back. 

“What are you two talk-” Simmons tried to ask, but his voice was cut off by the sound of the canyon being ripped in two. Rocks fell all around them, mostly small rubble. Dust filled the air. Most of the dust was filtered out with their helmets, but soldiers could still taste it, course on their tongues. The sound of rocks shredding a part, crippling under excess weight, was loud in their ears. This time, they saw the blast of bright white light. It marked the canyon wall a dozen or so meters to the left of their hiding spot. Huge chunks of sun-bleached sandstone rained down on the six soldiers. The sonic boom that echoed around the canyon a full ten seconds after the light faded rang in their ears.

“MOVE!” Church lunged forward and shoved Tucker out of the way as a rock the size of a Warthog crushed Church’s body. 

“Jesus Christ!” Grif shouted as everyone evacuated the area behind the rock fall. Rubble fell like hail, the dust getting thicker. Tucker and Simmons were choking on it now. Grif was still wheezing as he scrambled away, a large rock just missed crushing his right foot. Simmons grabbed his hand and yanked him forward, farther away from danger. Sarge jumped up, blindly whipping his shotgun around and fired a few rounds off into the dust.

“Show yourself, dirtbag. Let’s make it a fair fight, shall we?” Texas lunged at him, ripping the gun away. 

“No, you idiot. You might hit one of us. For fuck’s sake…” She mumbled the last part under her breath. 

“CHURCH!” Tucker yelled, finally getting to his feet. He tried to run towards him, but tripped over Grif’s body. The orange soldier was sprawled out on the ground, panting heavily. The falling sandstone slowed, falling into place. It could have been vaguely described as a fort with the way the rocks had collided and wedged together. The dust slowly settled, making it easier to see and breathe. Tucker scrambled back up, giving Grif a good kick in the side simply to make him feel better. Grif groaned, curling up.

“CHURCH! Answer me!” Suddenly, a white, translucent figure appeared next to Simmons. Tucker whirled around. “Church!”

“That motherfucker killed me again!” Church half shouted, half growled. Simmons sighed irritatedly. 

“Will someone tell us what the hell just happened and who just attacked us?!” The two remaining members of Blue team said in unison, “Caboose.” Suddenly, it all made sense. Grif groaned as Sarge kicked at him.

“Look alive, soldier!” 

“I’m lucky to be alive…” he whined. Not wanting to be kicked at again, Grif sat up. Most unfortunately, in doing so, his head brushed against Texas’s ass. She spun around and nailed him right in the nuts. Grif’s high pitched whimper was hardly heard above Simmons and Church’s bickering about what had happened. Apparently, Tucker had left the keys in their brand-new tank, gone inside to pee, and Caboose had slipped in behind the wheel. He’d hit a button which caused him to nearly run over Church in his robot body. The situation had rapidly gone downhill from there. 

As the five humans and one ghost left their place of safety, they could see Caboose running towards them, the tank stuck between two rocks.

“Church! Church! Did you see it? Do you like it?”

“Like what, Caboose?” It took everything Church had to not yell at him.

“Our new fort!” Caboose gestured to what the rockslide had created. Grif would have laughed if he wasn’t still holding his crotch and moaning with pain. Texas’ hands clenched and unclenched as Sarge raised his shotgun. 

“Freeze, ya filthy Blue!”

There they all stood, not far from Red base. Church sighed.

“Look guys, do you think we could just call it a day?” Simmons snickered. Grif nodded, finally straightening up.

“Deal. Now go the fuck away.” The Blues were around to take Caboose home when Donut came bustling out of Red base with a tray weighed down with mugs and sweets.

“I made snacks!”

“Thank god,” Grif muttered. “We gotta have snacks.” 

“More like you need snacks,” Simmons murmured back. 

“What kind of snacks…?” Tucker asked curiously.

“Snickerdoodles,” Donut sang. “Also made a fresh pot of coffee.” He set the tray down on a flat rock. Seven mugs filled to the brim, some tan others black. A yellow plate with two dozen cookies on it was next to the mugs.

“I thought we could have a bit of a picnic!” The others looked at each other. 

“Cookies!” Caboose cried, pushing passed Tucker and Texas to get to the tray. He grabbed two and sat down in the dirt. He raised the first cookie to his mouth. He seemed to realize his dilemma. Caboose set both cookies on his thigh before taking his helm off and setting it aside. He picked the cookies back up and began to munch happily. The group watched with amusement. Grif grabbed a mug of black coffee and a cookie. He settled down right next to the tray in case he needed another cookie (which he would). 

The others slowly grabbed mugs of coffee and a few cookies each. They settled down around the tray, no one talking much. For a few brief moments, the two teams were at peace. Sarge would make sure that peace wouldn’t last, but it was hard to threaten when his mouth was full of Snickerdoodle. 

Church watched over his band of idiots and their enemies, a soft smile on his face that he was thankful none of them could see.

**Author's Note:**

> Please review! It helps me become a better writer!  
> ~Nix


End file.
